“This is a lovely one, the craftsmanship is impeccable.” A bony finger trailed over the subtle weave of the maroon. Patience’s skin prickled at the unexpected intimacy. “I remember seeing your mother in this many years ago.” Mrs. Laurence peered up, eyes narrowing under a stray lock of hair that she promptly pushed back into her low pompadour.
Patience was unsure how to respond.
Mrs. Laurence had no issue continuing the conversation herself. “Frances looked lovely in it!” She continued to pin the fabric, slimming down the sleeves. “I’ll be sure to make it sing your praises now.”
Patience could not help but blush. She cleared her throat. “Along with these, I’ll also be taking the dress you made for me. I want to make the best impression.”
“Oh, indeed! That dress is meant to be shown!” the matron remarked. She muttered something to her assistant waiting by the counter. The girl scribbled on a ledger with a pencil. “I’ve still got your measurements and patterns from it, so altering these two will be no task at all.”
“Thank you very much.”
“All right, Patience. You’re set. You can change back into those pantaloons you so love.” Mrs. Laurence patted the young woman’s back.
Patience stepped behind a paneled screen set in the back corner. She began to undress, careful not to dislodge any of the pins from the fabric. A faint shadow of the dressmaker brushed the paper.
“Are you nervous for the trip?” came Mrs. Laurence’s voice from the other side.
“I should say I am. New Georgia is so far away.” Patience chuckled as she slipped out of the linen folds. “I’ll be in an entirely new country on the other side of the continent!”
“And meeting family?”
Patience reached her arm past the edge of the screen, proffering the pinned dress to the woman. “I suppose that is wracking my nerves the most.”
Mrs. Laurence took the dress in silence.
“I hope I meet their expectations.”
“You are a polite young woman. If they want anything more, then they don’t deserve your company. And you can find solace in knowing your home is thousands of miles removed from them.”
Patience smiled at those words. Still, she wanted to embrace what little family she had. Her own aunts and uncles lived completely separate from her existence. The last she had heard from any of them was at her mother’s funeral. By now, if age had not taken their bodies, then surely their minds. Their children were caught up in their own lives, paying little consideration to their odd, adopted cousin so much younger in years. The sustained relationship between Schuler and his brother afforded Patience the opportunity to have an extended family.
With a few parting words, Patience left the dress shop. Outside, a gaggle of girls had assembled around the front window to gawk at the newest gown on display. They barely shifted as Patience squeezed past them to continue on her way. The girls addressed their interrupter with sneers.
All Patience uttered in response was a scoff. She had little time to get exceptionally annoyed. Years of denigration had trained to her to place her energy into things better worth her while. As she navigated the street, a flash of familiar blond hair lured her eye across the way.
It was Seraphina, the baker’s frivolous and recently expecting daughter. Even though Patience would like to have ignored her, her disposition called any and all to regard her. Seraphina’s cheery face stood as a bright beacon for the citizens of Keaton. To Patience, it was a glaring lamp, warning her to steer clear away. She never really cared for her over-abundant optimism.
Seraphina had yet to show, but already the townsfolk were doting on her like no other. Currently a few of the bakery’s regular patrons surrounded her with soft smiles and pregnancy advice. It confirmed Patience’s theory that once an infant was on the way, it and all things related came to the forefront of every conversation. Seraphina was a cherished thing in Keaton, and her newborn would know no different. Patience stuck to the other side of the street, feeling more secure in the shadows of the buildings.
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